


Be Still My Foolish Heart

by violents



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Grishaverse Big Bang, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21996010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violents/pseuds/violents
Summary: Wylan is an exhausted art student working as a barista to pay the bills. He’s entirely too bored with the monotony of young-adult life, though living with Nina and Inej makes things a bit less painfully boring.Jesper is the art department’s newest model. And, suddenly, things get interesting.(Written for the Grishaverse Big Bang.)
Relationships: Inej Ghafa/Nina Zenik, Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Wylan Van Eck & Nina Zenik & Inej Ghafa
Comments: 12
Kudos: 147
Collections: Grishaverse Big Bang 2019





	Be Still My Foolish Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This fic was written for the Grishaverse Big Bang with the support and beta-work of softgr3mlin, [@noah-chairny](https://noah-chairny.tumblr.com) and [prettykwan](https://prettykwan.tumblr.com)(all on tumblr), so thank you all so much for your help!
> 
> There are also edits and art to accompany this fic. They were created by the wonderful [lailadermvtt](https://lailadermvtt.tumblr.com), [@myghostwontassociate](https://myghostwontassociate.tumblr.com), [@czterysta](https://czterysta.tumblr.com) and [@hanne-brum](https://hanne-brum.tumblr.com). Again, thank you all for being an amazing gang! 
> 
> Title is from Hozier’s _Almost (Sweet Music)_. Enjoy!

Every damn day is the same.

Wylan wakes up at six, drags himself out of bed, shuffles into the kitchen and throws some toast together. He shoots his best dagger-like glares at Inej, who miraculously always seems to be up and doing yoga with a cup of green tea before sunrise while Wylan is physically indistinguishable from a small boulder covered in blankets.

He does his best to arrange his copper-coloured curls into some semblance of tidiness and pulls on his work uniform. Then, he rubs in a bit of the moisturiser Nina forced on him, then realises at twenty-five past six that he had to be leaving the house at twenty past, so he tugs his shoes on at a speed that should be in the record books, shouts some kind of acknowledgement to let Inej know he’s leaving (she always responds with something bright and breezy which makes him long to be a morning person) and sprints down the apartment stairs. 

He usually makes it to the bus, just barely, panting and sweating as the warm air inside hits him, a stark contrast with the chill outside. He’ll slide into a seat, preferably on his own (but if necessary next to the least intimidating young person he can see), and drink his coffee from a reusable cup as he debates quitting his job, moving to northern Finland and living his life as a freelance ice fisherman so he doesn’t have to roll out of bed at such an ungodly time.

He doesn’t _hate_ his job. The opening shift he works fits in with his afternoon classes, even if it does mean he has to be there at 7 o’clock in the morning. His coworkers are decent, even if one of them is Nina’s surly ex-boyfriend and another has an inexplicable need to compete with Wylan on just about everything for no reason. He gets to make himself free coffee on his breaks, and his boss is an incredibly interesting slightly-older woman named Genya who has an eyepatch, holds herself like a courtier and doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her.

This morning, it’s early spring and the sun is rising just at the right time for the sun to be shining directly in Wylan’s eyes as he stands at the counter.

It wasn’t even a _nice_ sunrise. One of those boring ones, when the sky is clouded over or foggy and you can’t see anything apart from a glowing white ball of _nope_ making you want to sneeze every ten seconds.

He tries to make conversation with Matthias (the aforementioned surly ex-boyfriend) as he takes down chairs from the tables, but he clearly isn’t in the mood for small talk, giving mainly one-word answers and not asking any questions in response, so Wylan decides to shut up and keep to himself so that he has a chance of Matthias being somewhat amicable for the rest of the morning.

Kuwei (the competitive coworker) is in the back somewhere, getting the morning’s pastries onto trays so that they can be set out in the cabinet, and it smells _amazing._ Wylan suddenly wishes he hadn’t only eaten half a piece of toast that morning before realising he had to get a move on.

They have a few regular customers at this time of the morning, whom Wylan has learned to anticipate.

Always first through the door is Nina on her way to work, which is a lovely start to the morning, because even though they’re roommates she leaves him a tip more often than not and finds something to compliment him on. Even though Wylan is in no way attracted to women, having someone as beautiful as Nina tell him nice things is a comfortable self-esteem boost.

A bit later, a man probably just a little older than Wylan comes in. He orders black coffee, no milk, no sugar, and dresses in all black, and he _says_ his name is Kaz but Wylan has decided that that name is probably fake. The guy looks like a secret agent or a bank robber (more likely the latter based on how well he tips), and he’s definitely just drinking black coffee to keep up some kind of appearance, because he always winces and screws up his face at the taste. Wylan’s spent the whole six months he’s worked at The Slat trying to figure out what job he _actually_ does, to no avail.

Then, a charming middle-aged man with twinkling eyes and hair redder than Wylan’s who Kuwei always makes a little too much conversation with. Then, one or two terrifying stockbrokers in suits who stand and tap their foot if their service takes longer than one minute and never tip at _all._

The morning rush tends to really kick into gear at about eight, and Wylan has to concentrate hard the whole time to get every order right. Whoever’s at the till (usually Kuwei) doesn’t write down the orders, since Wylan’s dyslexia (unhelped by Kuwei’s awful medical-student handwriting) means he can’t read them; instead they have a system of symbols and numbers which works great in theory but is a little confusing in practice. Generally, their customers tend to be friendly, and accommodating enough of a little extra wait, since the coffee, pastries and service is ‘ _the best in the neighbourhood’_ according to one Yelp reviewer, which makes the whole experience less stressful and more enjoyably busy.

Once the rush dies down, the rest of Wylan’s shift will usually just be college students trickling in between classes and stay-at-home mothers, so he busies himself with wiping tables and cleaning the espresso machine. Just as he’s running out of tasks to keep him out of Matthias’ way, the bell above the door chimes and Wylan looks up from the till to see someone he doesn’t recognise.

He looks… vaguely familiar in the face, with grey eyes and dark skin. His short hair is fluffy, and he’s so tall that he almost has to duck when he comes inside. He’s dressed like one of the Classical Studies or English students Wylan will sometimes see around campus, with a backpack thrown over his shoulder and bags under his eyes, and _is that highlighter on his cheekbones?_

He walks up to the counter, shooting Wylan a white-toothed smile which makes his breath catch. Wylan tuts at himself internally. _No, don’t do this, idiot, you’re never going to see this guy again. Just ‘cause he’s cute doesn’t mean he’s into boys or into you._

Wylan puts on his best customer service smile, more genuine than usual, as Kuwei scurries over to the espresso machine. “Hey, welcome to The Slat, what can I get you?”

The man suddenly looks a little put on the spot. “What do you recommend?”

“Well, the iced coffees are good, and so are our smoothies? We’ve just started doing a strawberry and rose smoothie for the springtime? Or I’d recommend the mochachino, if you’re looking for something warm.” Wylan has his recommendations memorised by now. He has a very sweet tooth.

“I’ll take an iced coffee, thanks. Sorry, I’ve never been here before, my Dad recommended it ‘cause he comes here all the time,” he says, so quickly that Wylan can hardly keep up, as he hunts through his backpack for his wallet. Wylan spots a pin on his bag in the colours of the bisexual flag, and can’t help but grin.

“What’s your dad look like? I might recognise him,” Wylan says as he gets out his change. The shop is empty, so he has time to chat for a bit.

“Uh, middle-aged white guy, shorter than me, red hair—”

“Oh, his dad’s the DILF!” Kuwei says, too loudly, as he makes the coffee, and Wylan turns to him with wide eyes. Kuwei turns to face Jesper, who’s thankfully laughing rather than horribly offended or grossed out. He smiles and bats his eyelashes. “Hi, I’m Kuwei.”

“Hi, Kuwei,” he says, still chuckling, “I’m talking to— Wylan, is it?” 

“Yeah. Sorry about him.”

“Hey, I’m right here!” Kuwei says, handing over the iced coffee.

“And wouldn’t we all _rather you weren’t,”_ Wylan hisses at Kuwei before smiling back at the man, who takes a sip of his coffee and grins.

“Great recommendation, Wylan, thanks,” he says without sarcasm. He goes to walk out, shooting a smile at Wylan which makes his stomach do something fluttery and _thoroughly_ unpleasant. 

“See ya! Have a good day!” Wylan says, doing a little pseudo-wave, and waits until the door has closed before turning on his heel and yelling at Kuwei incomprehensibly for a good five minutes before Matthias interrupts.

“What did he do?” Matthias says, in his Scandinavian-accented gruff voice.

“He called a customer’s dad a DILF. To his face. For no reason.”

“Of _course_ he did,” he grumbles, and goes back to the kitchens.

Wylan is glad of one thing from the whole interaction, which is that he didn’t have to tell Matthias what a DILF is. It’s an entertaining thought, that someone else probably did. Wylan wonders if it was Nina.

Wylan throws his keys down on the kitchen counter when he gets home after his shift, at about one o’clock, and thankfully Nina is home, too. Her hours are weird.

“Hey, Wylan,” she says, sipping a hot chocolate on the couch with her laptop, “How was work?”

Wylan just groans.

“Who did what? C’mon, sit, I made you cocoa.” Wylan takes the cup gratefully and slumps down on the sofa, managing not to spill any on his shirt.

“Okay, so, this guy came in, right? Never seen him before, _extremely_ cute, tall and smiley—”

“Oh my God, did he flirt with you?”

“Well, not _really,_ but he had a bi pin on his bag like the one you have on that jacket—”

“Okay, amazing, go on.” Nina is normally a great listener, but she does have a habit of getting too involved in any possible romantic interests.

“Right, so he mentioned that his dad comes to our coffee shop a lot and he described him, and it was this nice older guy I recognised, and Kuwei says— and I wish I was lying— ‘ _oh, his Dad’s the DILF!’_ ” Nina bursts into laughter.

“No. Did he actually?”

“Yeah! Like, who _says_ that?”

“I think I’d get along with Kuwei. I would probably blurt out something like that in front of a cute guy, too.”

“No, you have dignity.”

“This is true.” Nina flips her dark hair over her shoulder. “So, did you get the guy’s number?”

“ _No,_ and now I’ll probably never see him ever again. God, I’m so tragically single.” Just as Wylan starts complaining, Inej walks through the front door with her hoodie slung over her shoulder, home for lunch from the morning gym class she instructs. Nina’s face instantly brightens, and Inej grins as she navigates through the flat to kiss Nina on the temple.

“Hey, love, did class go well?” She hands her yet another mug of hot chocolate. Nina is possibly psychic. Wylan decides to move to the other couch.

“Yeah, except some guy tripped and kicked this other guy in the nuts and then blamed it on someone else, which was more funny than irritating.” She settles next to Nina, kissing her again, quickly on the lips this time. “You taste like chocolate.”

Wylan lets out a groan, again. Inej looks up sheepishly.

“Oh. Hey, Wylan, also.”

“Yes, hello, Inej. Nina, do you _see_ why I complain so much about being single? I love you guys, but being your third-wheel is unfair and rude.”

“Maybe you should just go out to that gay bar that I tried to get you to come with me to last year.”

“They never serve me! I’m _barely_ 21, and I look like I’m 14, so they think my ID is a fake!”

“To be fair, I probably wouldn’t believe you,” Inej says, and Wylan scowls at her as best he can. “Yeah, that face makes you look like an angry chipmunk. Sorry, Wylan.”

Wylan makes a distressed, almost growly noise, and hauls himself up from the sofa and gets to work making himself a sandwich for lunch.

Wylan’s days are all rather homogenous. He goes to work, comes home, chats to Nina and/or Inej, eats lunch, goes to class. Today, he has a class on figure painting, and he doesn’t know exactly if that means he’ll have to paint someone who’s naked or what, but overall he’s not super excited about the whole idea.

Wylan’s art is usually more landscapes, in whatever style has taken his fancy that week, but he’s sketched one of the girls a couple of times, though drawing people isn’t really his forte. He took the figure class to get his grades up, and he only ever enjoys it when his mother, Marya, is the tutor.

So he gets back on the bus, a different one this time, and rushes across town to the arts campus, saying hello to a couple of his classmates on the way, and manages to arrive at his class with plenty of time to spare.

The room his classes are in is possibly his favourite place to be, aside from curled up on the couch with Nina watching David Attenborough documentaries. The walls are covered in paint, Jackson Pollock-style, and the ceiling has been painted with huge flowers and stars and planets by past students who had signed their names and marked the year, going back two decades. There are always cups full of water and paintbrushes on the table, newspapers laid around the place, and everything smells like coffee and clay and dust stirred up by the sun.

Wylan settles at an easel near the little clear area where the model will be sitting, putting his tubes of acrylic paint on the desk next to him, and waits, breathing in the warm air and letting the tension fall from his shoulders. Someone’s playing Hozier quietly in the background, and he hums along.

Just then, Marya walks in, chatting amicably with someone Wylan recognises.

 _Seriously?_ He thinks, _Coffee shop boy is here?_

He pulls out his phone to complain/scream that he has a second chance to Nina, but before he can finish typing out his text, he sees his eyes light up in recognition, and Coffee Shop Boy is walking over to him, a smile on his face.

“Hey!” he says, “Weren’t you the—”

“The barista whose colleague said something really weird to you this morning? Yeah, I’m in this class.”

“I was _going_ to say the barista who was exceedingly cute when he was flustered, but sure, that works.” Wylan goes bright red. Cherry red, tomato red, shepherd’s-warning red. He grins, scratching the back of his neck with the hand that isn’t holding his phone. “Ah, and you further prove my point! _Very_ cute.”

“So, uh, what brings you here?” Wylan says, a weak attempt at a subject change, because he doesn’t think he can handle being told he’s cute even _one_ more time. Since this morning, the guy has put something gold and sparkly on his eyes, and nail polish the same colour. He’s taken off his jacket, revealing a white-ink tattoo of something Wylan can’t quite see peeking out from the neckline of his t-shirt. It’s a _lot_ to handle.

“I’m actually supposed to be the model for y’all to paint. I have _no_ idea what that means I have to do, other than stand really still for a couple of hours. My Dad vaguely knows Marya, and apparently they needed someone for the next few lessons.”

“Marya’s actually my mom! Small world,” Wylan says weakly.

“Really? Yeah, that’s crazy. Oh, my name’s Jesper, by the way. Nice to meet you.” he— _Jesper—_ says, flashing another brilliant smile and walking back over to Marya as she starts the lesson, finally.

“Hey, everyone,” she says, “This is Jesper, he’ll be our model for today…” She launches into her usual spiel, and Wylan pulls his phone out and furtively whispers into the speech-to-text on his phone to talk to Nina and Inej, phone hidden behind his pencil-case, giggling as the robotic screen-reader voice reads their responses through his earphones.

 **_Rachel, Santana and Kurt in Glee season 5 basically_ ** **_(Nina, Inej, Wylan)_ **

_(14:03)_

**_Wylan:_ ** _Kill me_

 **_Nina:_ ** _WHAT_

 **_Wylan:_ ** _Hot coffee shop boy is the model for our class today_

 **_Wylan:_ ** _He remembered me. And called me cute._

 **_Nina:_ ** _second chance baby boy!!! Get it!!_

 **_Inej:_ ** _what kind of model??? Is he clothed???? because I remember you saying that you have to paint nude models sometimes_

 **_Wylan:_ ** _He was clothed five minutes ago but now he’s in boxers I’m having a meltdown_

 **_Wylan:_ ** _He has a bunch of tattoos. He’s wearing eyeliner. Might die_

 **_Nina:_ ** _ask for his number at the end of class_

 **_Wylan:_ ** _I think I’m staring because he just winked at me_

 **_Inej:_ ** _I can IMAGINE how red you must be right now_

 **_Nina:_ ** _go and paint him you can scream later!_

Wylan doesn’t really paint exactly what he’s supposed to. The intention of having a model in is for the class to paint them as a pose and anatomy study. Wylan just ends up covering his page with sketches of his facial expressions, trying to get those grey eyes _just right._

Then, he moves on to the tattoos. He has one on his arm which is particularly intriguing, a crow trying to drink from a cup, which Wylan sketches in swooping lines of black and silver, over the brown of his skin and the blue of his veins. 

He tries to capture the fine bones of his fingers, the tendons in his neck, never trying to put all these little pieces together into one, just drilling them into his mind and occasionally making eye contact with Jesper for a second and smiling at him, getting an eyebrow raise or a winning smile in response.

The class is over in a heartbeat, and Jesper steps into a side room to pull his shirt and jeans back on, and Wylan takes a second to blink hard and draw himself back to reality before speaking to him again.

Jesper catches up to him on the way out, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Hey! It was nice to see you,” he says, coily hair ruffled from changing. On instinct, Wylan reaches up and pats it down, then freezes and draws away.

“Sorry, I just— I don’t even know why I did that.”

“Well, I didn’t even realise it was messed up, so thank you,” Jesper says, sounding pleased but also a little confused about _why_ he’s pleased. “I’ll see you next time. Or at The Slat, probably.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you soon,” Wylan says, and he knows that Nina will yell at him if he doesn’t ask for his number, especially since Jesper actively came up and started talking to him. Jesper looks down at his watch, and Wylan almost says “Can I—”

“Shit, Wylan, I have to go, but I’ll see you!”

“Yep, bye,” Wylan says, managing some kind of awkward wave/weird salute thing vaguely in his direction, before screaming internally and walking towards the bus stop about ten times more frustrated.

Wylan has some time to kill before Nina finishes work, so he decides to walk home. He figures that the late afternoon sun and the fresh air will be good for him, and his mood could really do with some improvement.

Morning comes again, as, unfortunately, it tends to.

Wylan topples out of bed, pats his hair down, runs for the bus, bitches at Kuwei, listens to Matthias’ low grumbling. The sun makes him sneeze. Kaz the dark-clothed edgy guy comes in, then Jesper’s dad, then the intimidating businessmen. And then Jesper, and his sunny smile and cloud-grey eyes.

“Hey, Jesper,” Wylan says, and Kuwei looks at him quizzically.

“Wylan! Seeing you was just what I needed this early in the morning.”

“It’s ten o’clock.”

“Yeah, that’s early. Can I get what I had yesterday?”

“One iced chocolate, coming up!” Wylan bumps Kuwei away from the barista machine with his elbow and sets about making it as he chats with Jesper, who is apparently going to be their class model for the next week and who is almost definitely flirting with him, which is extremely gratifying.

He can almost hear Nina’s voice in his head, telling him _write your damn number on the cup, Wylan!_

But he doesn’t. He hands over the drink with a smile, gets a thanks and a grin and a _see-you-later_ in response.

His art class passes by in much the same way as it did yesterday, except this time he does actually try to draw the pose like he’s supposed to, still getting a little lost in Jesper’s tattoos and cheekbones every now and then, but he doesn’t have the chance to speak to Jesper afterwards because Marya pulls him aside.

“Wylan! You haven’t come and said hello for a few days, how’re things?”

“Yeah, sorry, Mom, I’ve been a bit distracted.”

“Distracted by what? Is everything alright?” Wylan tries to think of something, letting his eyes drift over to where Jesper is chatting with one of the girls as he walks out. Unfortunately, the ever-observant Marya catches the slight movement, and her face brightens. “Or should I say by _whom?_ ”

“No, no, there’s nothing going on, we’re just kind of friends.”

“He’s nice! And based on the eyeliner he was wearing yesterday, probably not straight—”

“Straight guys can wear eyeliner, too! And they _should,_ woah.” Marya raises an eyebrow at him. “Okay, yeah, fine, he was wearing a bi pin, but I’m probably not his type.”

“See, now you’re just making excuses. Do you like him or not?”

“I mean, he’s cute and has been nice to me, but I don’t really know him at all.”

“Well, what _do_ you know about him?”

Wylan thinks for a second. “His Dad is a regular at the Slat, he likes iced coffee, he has a lot of tattoos, he wears eyeliner sometimes, he thinks I’m cute when I’m flustered. That’s it.”

“All of those point to someone you could go out with. Just saying!” Marya defends, as Wylan groans.

“Nope, I’m _so_ not talking about this with you. Bye, Mom!” Wylan says as he turns on his heel and walks away, as she protests behind him.

When he gets home and tells Nina that Marya ships him with Jesper, she laughs at him for a good five minutes. 

Days go by, and Wylan doesn’t catch up with Jesper for a while, both of them busy and rushing out the door after class, barely exchanging _hello_ s and _see you_ s, until one sunny Thursday afternoon which left Wylan’s hands covered in sunflower-yellow and brown paint.

“Hey! Heyyy, Wylan, wait up,” Jesper calls, as Wylan is just about to close the art room door behind him. Jesper half-jogs to reach him, stepping out into the sunshine beside him. “I haven’t been able to catch you these last couple of days, how’s it going?”

“I’m good, yeah, fine,” Wylan replies blandly, internally grinning at the idea that Jesper had been looking for him. “Just busy. And you?”

Jesper starts telling a story about something that happened to him earlier that day involving white sneakers and tomato soup as they walk across campus. In the past week, spring feels like it’s come all at once, a few nearby jasmine bushes nearby making the air smell sweet and floral. Jesper looks nice, as always, in a highlighter-green shirt that would look gaudy on anyone else but he manages to pull off, with black jeans and Converse.

Wylan would be happy to just watch him talk. He’s not looking where he’s going at all, and as they walk they drift just a _little_ too close to the edge of the curb, and—

“Ow, shit!” Wylan’s ankle twists as he puts his foot down on the corner of the footpath, and he hears a horrible _crunch,_ and pain shoots up his leg, sitting down heavily. 

“Whoa, are you alright?”

“Twisted my goddamn ankle on the kerb, _shit!_ Ouch.” Just as he starts to feel very sorry for himself, he sees his bus drive away from his stop about a block away, and groans. “A _aand_ that was my bus. This is just great.”

Jesper offers him a hand up, which Wylan takes, but when he realises with another bitten-back curse and a wince of pain that putting any weight on his ankle is painful (why did he think it wouldn’t be?), Jesper wraps an arm around his waist.

“Here, put an arm around my shoulders— yeah. Put your weight on me. Do you want a lift home? My car isn’t far from here.”

“That would be amazing, _thank you.”_

Jesper’s car makes Wylan think that either modeling for college art students pays better than he thought or it’s a gift, because it’s _nice,_ all leather seats which stick to Wylan’s thighs in his shorts, and speakers which are so powerful that Wylan can almost _feel_ the bass despite it not being particularly loud. He types his address into the GPS, and it’s not until Jesper is pulling out of his parking space that Wylan considers _huh, I barely know Jesper and now I’m in his car, maybe this is a bad idea,_ but he forgets about that as soon as Jesper hits play on a Taylor Swift song.

“Didn’t take you for a pop person,” Wylan remarks, running his hand along the armrest of the car.

“Usually I’m not. But this is, like, 2000s Taylor when she was a country singer, and I’m a country boy at heart, so.” He starts singing along to _Our Song,_ and he’s seriously bad, but when Wylan finally remembers the words and joins in, Jesper goes quiet and just listens with a surprised smile on his face.

The song ends, and something indie starts on the playlist that Wylan doesn’t know.

“What?” he asks. Jesper’s still smiling at him.

“You’re _really_ good at singing. I knew you were an artsy person, but, like, woah.”

“Thank you!” he says, “I’ve been doing music stuff since I was little. I play the flute, too.”

“Impressive! I played the drums in high school, if that counts?”

Wylan thinks of Jesper playing the drums in the kind of fairly average band that Wylan had wanted to be a part of back then but never had the right kind of friends to get involved with. He has to assume that he was good. It makes sense, he can imagine it; Jesper in one of his tank tops (which he wears occasionally and which give Wylan heart palpitations) and ripped jeans, playing something like Panic! At The Disco.

“Yeah, that counts, absolutely.” 

The drive back to Wylan’s apartment is shorter than he’d like it to be, once Jesper starts tapping along to the rhythm of the music and humming along, wrists draped over the steering wheel in a cool and collected way that shouldn’t be hot, but is. 

(Wylan decides to think _later_ about whether he has a competence kink.)

When they arrive, Wylan calls Nina and asks her to come down and give him a hand up the stairs, and once she’s on her way down, Jesper turns down the music and swivels in his seat to face Wylan.

“Hey, I wanted to ask if I could get your number? It seems weird that we haven’t done that yet, considering, you know.” He gestures vaguely between them. 

Wylan blinks at him for a second, probably goes red again, before quickly saying “Yeah! Yeah, sure, pass me your phone.”

He types his number into Jesper’s contacts and hands it back, and just before he can give Jesper his own phone, Nina knocks on the car door and opens it.

“What did you do, dumbass?”

“Walked too close to the kerb.” He wraps an arm around Nina’s shoulders and swings his good leg over onto the kerb. He turns back to Jesper. “Thanks for giving me a ride.”

“No problem. I’ll text you later, okay?”

Nina looks at Wylan with her eyebrow raised, but before she can ask, he quickly says “Yeah, do! See you, Jesper,” and closes the car door, hobbling towards the apartment building using Nina as a crutch.

“So you got his number, then?” Wylan hears Jesper drive away behind them. “And twisted your ankle?”

“It was an eventful afternoon,” Wylan says mildly.

“Oh, come _on,_ that’s cute.”

“Shut up! It’s literally just exchanging phone numbers!”

“That’s step one on the way to a date, Wylan.”

Wylan glares at her, but there’s no actual anger behind it. He knows she’s probably right.

**_Unknown number, Wylan_ **

_(17:33)_

**_Unknown number:_ ** _hey hot stuff!_

 **_Wylan:_ ** _I’m assuming this is Jesper?_

 **_Unknown number:_ ** _yep hows it going_

 **_Wylan:_ ** _I’m fine. How are you?_

 **_Jesper:_ ** _better now that I’m talking to you ;)_

 **_Wylan:_ ** _You are a terrible flirt._

 **_Jesper:_ ** _yeah im not ashamed_

 **_Jesper:_ ** _you text with perfect grammar and capitalisation this stresses me out_

 **_Wylan:_ ** _I use speech-to-text, so if anything comes out weird then that’s why. Believe me, I would be texting you in lower-case if I could. Maybe I should see if I can change that in settings._

 **_Jesper:_ ** _that makes sense but i have to question your use of speech-to-text like why put yourself through that_

 **_Wylan:_ ** _I have to because I’m severely dyslexic._

 **_Jesper:_ ** _Ohhh_

 **_Jesper:_ ** _sorry for asking i was curious_

 **_Wylan:_ ** _It’s fine, just my lot, I guess._

 **_Jesper:_ ** _aight anyway_

 **_Jesper:_ ** _i wanted to ask if you’d like to go out with me?_

 **_Jesper:_ ** _like on a date_

 **_Jesper:_ ** _bc you’re cool and also like SERIOUSLY cute_

Wylan buries his face in his hands as the screen-reader reads out his texts through his earbuds, and tries not to literally scream.

He feels fifteen again, like his high school crush has just asked him to the pep rally or something, which should feel ridiculous (Wylan is a grown-ass adult, thank you very much). But he hasn’t had this in a long time, and he thinks it’s fair enough that he should get excited.

And isn’t Jesper the exact kind of guy he’d liked back then? Funny, cool but not a dick, tall, kind of a gentleman (if the way he’d immediately helped Wylan when he twisted his ankle is any indicator). The only difference is that Jesper is actually interested in him, too. Which is _insane._

Nina sweeps out of the kitchen holding cups of tea, and immediately raises an eyebrow at Wylan, hand on her hip.

“What’re you smiling about?”

“Nothing.”

“No, you’re not allowed to not tell me, Wy. I made you peppermint tea.” She holds out the cup to him. “Tea in exchange for gossip.”

“Okay, _fine,_ Hot Coffee Shop slash Art Model Boy may have just asked me out.”

“Oh, he asked you out over _text?_ Yikes?”

“No, nonono, I’m so glad he did. This is an absolute plus. I think if he’d asked me in person, I would have spontaneously combusted.”

“That’s true, I guess. What’s his name? We can’t keep calling him Hot Coffee Shop Boy.”

“He’s called Jesper, and he’s exceedingly attractive and it’s not fair.”

Nina laughs and elbows Wylan good-naturedly, almost spilling scalding hot tea on him but saving it at the last second and sheepishly setting the cup down. Wylan leans down and adjusts the ice pack on his ankle, which has miraculously not swollen up too much.

“Well, I’m glad you finally have a dating life for the first time in _years_. Hold on, I’m telling Inej.”

Wylan looks down at his phone, and his eyes widen. “I didn’t text him back!” He starts frantically but clearly speaking into his phone, as Nina keeps laughing at him.

**_Jesper, Wylan_ **

_(17:40)_

**_Jesper:_ ** _hello???_

 **_Wylan:_ ** _Sorry, sorry, got distracted by my roommate_

 **_Wylan:_ ** _Absolutely, I will go out with you smiley face emoji_

 **_Jesper:_ ** _yay looking forward to it!_

 **_Jesper:_ ** _any preference as to what we do? Like are there any activities you absolutely hate which will prevent any chance of a second date?_

 **_Wylan:_ ** _No, surprise me. Just tell me what to dress for._

 **_Jesper:_ ** _;)_

 **_Jesper:_ ** _or should i say: ‘winky face emoji’_

On Saturday, Wylan gets a text from Jesper asking him if he’s free, and when he says that he is, giving time and place. It’s not far from Wylan’s place, so he decides to walk there (ankle fully recovered, thanks to some TLC and a lot of sitting on the sofa with his foot elevated and using it as an excuse to get out of doing dishes), and when he arrives, at about four in the afternoon, he sees Jesper already there, corners of his mouth rising to a grin when he sees him.

Somehow, by pure luck, they’re dressed in matching colours, not to the point that it’s cheesy but so that they look cohesive, and Wylan likes it more than he thinks he should. Also, as it turns out, dark green is both of their colour.

“Hey!” Wylan awkwardly half-jogs over to Jesper, because just walking to him now that they’ve acknowledged each other’s presence would feel weird and involve far too much eye contact.

Jesper trails his eyes over Wylan’s outfit for a second, just long enough for Wylan to notice he’s being checked out and feel slightly self-conscious (but also very happy) about it. “Hey— shall we?”

Jesper offers his arm like an old-fashioned gentleman (which is funny, because Wylan wouldn’t usually have ever dreamed of applying that descriptor to him) and Wylan takes it, letting himself be led into the building they’re outside.

“What are we doing?”

“We, Wylan, are mini-golfing.” He looks thoroughly pleased with himself about this, and Wylan can’t help but laugh at his self-satisfied smirk. “What? I think that’s a very cool first date idea.”

“You’re just cute. Sounds fun.”

“You’re the cute one in this pairing,” Jesper points out, and Wylan internally decides that Jesper is the one and only person allowed to call him cute, bar occasionally his mother. Nobody else.

“Okay, fine. You’re just _gorgeous,_ then.” Jesper’s smile broadens, and he actually _winks,_ but Wylan can’t fixate on that for too long because they’re at the desk and getting those ridiculous brightly-coloured putters, and then Wylan actually has to focus on playing and not embarrassing himself with how shit he really is at mini-golf.

He fails.

However, this is more of a blessing than a curse, because then Jesper teaches him (he’s shockingly good at it) by arranging his hands on the putter and showing him how far back to swing, and if Wylan is deliberately a little obtuse so that Jesper will keep fixing his posture with those big hands, then that’s between him and God.

They’re both giggling half the time, and linking arms whenever they go anywhere (Wylan hasn’t worked up to holding his hand yet— maybe later?). To any outside observer, they probably look frustratingly wrapped up in each other, that kind of couple you think are cute from a distance but can’t spend any time around.

Wylan _really_ wants to kiss him.

Because the whole afternoon, they chat, and every new thing Wylan learns about Jesper is more endearing than the last.

For example: he’s done archery and target shooting since he was six, he’s been friends with Bank Robber Kaz from the coffee shop since middle school (and doesn’t confirm or deny whether he’s actually a bank robber or just has a very edgy dress sense), and he grew up on a farm. Wylan can finally place his accent, which is very satisfying in its own way.

It doesn’t exactly help that Jesper just will not stop putting on lip balm. Wylan wonders absently whether he’s, like, allergic to having dry lips or something, but he is seriously not complaining because he does the little smacking thing with his lips after he puts it on, which is super adorable.

Jesper beats Wylan soundly at mini golf, and then he asks if they should get dinner since it’s six o’clock and they might as well, and Wylan possibly accepts a little too quickly.

They go to a little Indian restaurant and share an absolutely delicious chicken tikka masala at a small table, and the way Jesper listens raptly to every anecdote Wylan shares even if he doesn’t think they’re that interesting makes Wylan feel so warm inside he can’t handle it. 

The day was sunny, but the evening is cool enough that Wylan, ever cold, starts shivering the second they step outside. Wylan’s apartment is on Jesper’s way home, so they walk together, and fairly soon, Jesper drapes his jacket over Wylan’s shoulders, and it smells like sandalwood. 

Wylan, Nina and Inej don’t live in the _greatest_ part of town. In order to get a big enough apartment on three part-time salaries, they had to move to a slightly sketchy (read: exceedingly dangerous at night) district called the East Stave, which is why Nina carries pepper spray at all times and Wylan just generally tries to look as unassuming and unthreatening as physically possible to avoid any kind of conflict with their neighbours. Inej’s self defense and martial arts skills (and, ahem, _numerous_ pocket-knives) make this mostly unnecessary for her.

In any case, it’s nice that Jesper offered to walk him home, since people are certainly a lot less likely to mess with Wylan if he’s accompanied by a tall, vaguely intimidating man with tattoos. It’s also nice because it drives home that _oh my God he actually went on a date with Jesper,_ and gives them just a few more minutes of time together before they part ways.

As they step out of the way of some pedestrians walking in the opposite direction, Wylan’s hand brushes Jesper’s and Jesper grabs it, cool as anything, and doesn’t let go. Normally, Wylan isn’t particularly easily flustered, but he can’t even look at Jesper for a solid minute after.

When they reach Wylan’s apartment, he’s almost disappointed. Jesper is funny, and charismatic, and generous, and Wylan likes him even more than he thought he could after one date. Jesper also seems genuinely interested in his boring life, and he’s probably been complimented more tonight than in the last year combined. Feeling as though he’s honestly _liked_ is startlingly new, and Wylan doesn’t really want it to be over just yet.

“This evening was really fun,” Wylan practically whispers. There’s nobody around, but it doesn’t feel right to speak loudly when Jesper is standing just a few feet away and looking at him like he’s something special. 

“Yeah! I’d love to do this again sometime,” Jesper replies, louder, and takes half a step closer to Wylan.

Wylan knows he _should_ say something, but he just opens his mouth and then closes it again.

He doesn’t really know what to do. Is this where they should kiss? Is it too soon? Should he just say goodnight and go inside to scream to himself in private?

Jesper doesn’t _look_ like he’s having the same dilemma, but then again, Wylan’s starting to think that Jesper isn’t as faultlessly confident as he seems. He’s still holding his hand.

With a bolt of confidence, Wylan goes to kiss his cheek, praying that he doesn’t trip or something equally embarrassing, and Jesper looks pleasingly flustered for a moment, smiling with surprise.

Then, his smoothness comes back, with a raised eyebrow and a “You missed, Wylan.”

It takes him a second to realise what he means, but when he does, he swallows hard, bright red. _God,_ he thinks, _it’s only a kiss, I’m such a mess._ Jesper chuckles, cupping Wylan’s (probably rather pink) cheek with his slightly-rough hand in a way that makes Wylan feel a bit like a child.

“You’re cute. Don’t worry, I’m not pressuring you into kissing me on the first date. Unless you want to,” Jesper adds quickly, but Wylan suddenly feels uncharacteristically bold, so he leans into the hand that’s still on his face and kisses him properly, on the lips.

 _Oh,_ he thinks. _This is what I’ve been waiting for._

Jesper’s breath catches, just a little, and a rush of warmth courses through him, and he couldn’t have expected it to be this perfect.

And then Wylan’s taking one step, two steps forward, and Jesper’s back is pressed against the door with a _thump_ , and Wylan is kissing him like it’s breathing, and his lips feel numb already, because Jesper’s gone pliant under his hands. His arms are wrapped around Jesper’s neck to try and make up for the fact that he’s having to stand on his tippy-toes (which would slightly take away from the confidence he’s trying to exude right now).

Jesper tugs at his lip with his teeth and Wylan gasps into the kiss and unintentionally deepens it, letting Jesper’s lower lip catch between his own. Jesper’s warm hands are sliding down his sides to hold him by the waist.

The top of Jesper’s shirt was unbuttoned at some point, just enough for Wylan to finally see the whole white-ink tattoo which had drawn his eye the second time they met. He already knew it wasn’t all white— it’s a flower, with pointed petals, filled in with orange and red and yellow— but seeing it (and all the other tattoos on Jesper’s arms and collarbones) close up is _beautiful._ From both an objective artistic standpoint, and a subjective _super-hot-guy_ standpoint. 

Wylan traces a finger over the flower, and Jesper actually _shivers_ and starts kissing down Wylan’s throat, which is a new level of amazing and Wylan never wants him to _stop_ except to kiss him on the lips again, and, and—

And then the door swings open. And Inej pops her head out.

“Wylan? Is that you— _ooooooh._ ” She takes in the scene.

Jesper, the first two buttons of his shirt undone, lips kiss-bitten a little redder than usual, hair messy from Wylan’s fingers running through it. Wylan, neck covered in red patches.

“Oh, I see what’s happening,” Inej says, a laugh bubbling up at Wylan’s wide eyes and the way Jesper is gently thumping his head against Wylan’s shoulder. “Do you want me to go somewhere for the night? I know I said I’d kill you if you ever sexiled us, but I’m sure Nina and I could stay at that motel down the street if you’re actually planning on—”

“ _Inejpleasestoptalking,_ ” Wylan blurts all at once as he extricates himself from Jesper and tugs at his shirt to straighten it— half of the front has come untucked. “Jesper. This is Inej. One of my roommates.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Jesper says weakly, “Though I wish the circumstances were better.”

“So do you want me to leave, or—”

“No, it’s alright, I have to get up early tomorrow,” Jesper insists, “as much as I’d really love to keep doing this.”

“Okay, I’m going inside, nice to meet you Jesper, _bye,”_ Inej says, her voice getting quieter as she walks inside and closes the door.

“Well, then.” Wylan can’t handle what Jesper looks like now, and the fact that he _made him look like that._

“Yeah. Uh, so, second date?” suggests Jesper, fixing his hair.

“Definitely. If you couldn’t tell, I’m kind of very much into you.”

Jesper grins, and says “I really do have to get up early, so I think I should head home,” looking gently happy in the harsh artificial light of the hallway. He leans in and kisses Wylan, quick and warm.

“Bye, then,” Wylan says, voice breaking embarrassingly. “I’ll see you in class.”

“You will. Have fun explaining to your friends.” Wylan buries his face in his hands, groaning, and Jesper laughs. “See you, Wylan.” He turns and walks down the hallway, waving before he disappears down the stairs.

Wylan slumps against the wall, a smile on his face so wide it almost hurts. He takes a few deep breaths, and then heads inside and down the hall to the living room, where Nina and Inej sit waiting for him.

“Why do I feel like I’m fifteen and just got back from sneaking out to a concert?”

“I can’t believe that _you,_ Wylan van Eck, just went from awkward flirting and going beet red when your hands brushed to making out against the door in the space of one evening. Like, how damn good was that date?”

Wylan launches himself onto the sofa, face down, and tries to restrain himself from screaming into a pillow. “Really good. I like him _so much._ ”

“Aww. Finally, you can stop complaining about how tragically single you are,” Inej puts in, unhelpfully.

“It’s not like we’re anything official yet. We’ve only been on one date.”

“The first. Of many. But seriously, all joking aside, I’m happy for you. Jesper seems nice, he should come over for dinner sometime—”

“ _Absolutely not,_ you she-beasts _._ I’m leaving now, goodbye and goodnight.” 

Wylan walks into his room as Nina laughs, and closes the door, throwing himself down onto his bed and just lying there on his back and grinning. He lifts his hand and runs his thumb over his lower lip absently— it still tingles.

Something warm runs down his spine when he thinks about the evening he’s just had.

It hasn’t _been_ like that with someone, not for a long time. Jesper had just… _clicked_ right into his life, in a way that nobody else ever really had. 

Nina and Inej had been his friends since sophomore year of high school, but they took a while to really get close to him, especially since they’d been together for almost that long and Wylan had had to warm up to being a perpetual third wheel. He doesn’t really get along particularly well with Kuwei or Matthias from the coffee shop, and he doesn’t have friends in his various classes beyond getting the occasional text asking after missed material.

And now there’s Jesper. Who he spoke to in passing in a coffee shop, who remembered him afterwards and said hello, who kept talking to him even when Wylan was awkward. Who’s nice, and funny, and drove him home when he twisted his ankle. Who asked him out, who Wylan just kissed. And he fits right in, and Wylan probably shouldn’t have let himself be this emotionally invested in a person after just a few weeks and one date and a _seriously_ hot but brief makeout session, but he’s gone and done it now, and he just has to hope that it doesn’t end badly for him.

It’s a few days until Wylan sees Jesper again. He doesn’t have his painting class on Mondays, Jesper isn’t there on Tuesday, and he doesn’t see him at the coffee shop. He’d worry a little, thinking Jesper was sick or avoiding him, if they weren’t texting _all the time._ To the point that Wylan often can’t get through a whole song in his earphones without having it interrupted by a text. And Jesper almost always initiates conversations.

He’ll be in the middle of eating dinner (some kind of crap takeout, probably) and he’ll receive a blurry photo of a cute, tiny dog with curly fur which Jesper had obviously taken from the other side of the street, followed by ‘ _this dog looks like you!!!!’_ , and Nina will mock him for blushing and laughing, or for responding with _‘I think you were a furry in a past life. Or in this life.’_

He sees him again on Wednesday, and Wylan had been a little worried that things would be awkward between them, but Jesper greeted him with a bright smile and a kiss on the cheek, and Wylan painted him the best that he ever had (in Marya’s definitely completely objective and unbiased opinion).

6am on a Friday, a couple of weeks later, and Wylan’s already up and walking out of his room, dressed in his work clothes, hair flattened on one side. Inej is out in the living room, doing her yoga, and Nina is lying on the couch in a giant fluffy dressing-gown complaining about how she can’t get back to sleep after Inej gets up.

“Morning,” he says from the kitchen, putting the kettle on for their various hot drinks and throwing some bread in the toaster.

“You’re chipper this morning, Wy,” Inej remarks (currently sitting in the splits and touching her toe with one hand, which looks physically painful), “Anything special today?”

“Yeah, today’s Jesper’s last day as our model so we’re going out for dinner afterwards.” He stretches an arm over his head, glass of water in the other hand.

Nina groans, sitting up. “No, you’re not allowed to be awake in the mornings, too. We’re a team, Wylan! The two of us, not morning people, against Inej, who does _this_ at five thirty in the morning.” She gestures at Inej, who has moved to standing on one leg with the other bent, foot resting on her thigh, arms stretched above her head. “This is a betrayal. It’s less awful when we’re bleary messes _together.”_

“Don’t be dramatic, I’m just looking forward to _today._ Believe me, I’m still going to be dragging myself out of bed on Monday.”

“It’s sweet that you’re sentient in the mornings because of your boyfriend, though,” Inej says with a smile.

“ _Is_ he your boyfriend?” Nina asks, resting her chin on her fist as she leans on the arm of the couch. 

“Not in as many words, but _basically—”_

“Oof.”

“No, seriously. We just aren’t, like, Facebook official or anything.”

“Ew, who says _Facebook official_ in the year of our Lord 2019?” Nina starts cackling, but stops as soon as Wylan hands her a cup of tea. “Thank you.”

“Maybe you should ask him about it tonight?” suggests Inej, actually helpfully. “It’ll be good to have that official label. Being 100% exclusive might help you feel more secure in your relationship.”

“I do feel secure! But it _would_ be nice to have an actual boyfriend,” Wylan concedes, tugging at the piece of his hair at the front that’s gotten just a little bit too long. Nina swats his hand away.

“Don’t do that, you’ll screw it up— oh my God, you should let me cut your hair—”

“ _No,”_ say Wylan and Inej immediately and simultaneously, and Wylan continues “Never in a million years. But I do need a haircut soonish.”

“Would you let Inej do it?” Nina asks, running her fingers through Inej’s short hair. “She did her own, and it looks _great._ ”

What he doesn’t tell her is that, since she cut it on a whim at two in the morning in their bathroom encouraged by a tipsy Wylan and a drunk Nina, it was _not_ good and she had to get it fixed the next day by a hairdresser. He locks eyes with Inej, and she shakes her head at him as surreptitiously as she can manage with Nina’s hand literally on her head. 

“Uh, maybe next time.” Wylan chugs his coffee and swiftly moves on from the conversation before Nina can talk him into anything. “Anyway— do you think I should actually ask him to be my boyfriend? Christ, that sounds so high-school.”

“Yes. Definitely.” Nina nods once, with conviction, now holding a comb she’s produced from somewhere and fixing Inej’ s hair where she’s mussed it up.

“I hope he isn’t the _I-don’t-like-labels_ type. I mean, he doesn’t seem like he would be.”

“Yeah, and if he really likes you as much as you like him, which I feel like he does based on the texts he sends—”

“Hey, you read my texts?”

“You leave your phone face-up on the sofa! Right next to me!”

“A weak excuse. Go on.”

“Yeah, if he genuinely likes you then he’ll be your boyfriend even if he _doesn’t_ like labels, or whatever,” Inej says, “because he’ll want you to be happy. Don’t stress.” She smiles warmly at him, and Wylan feels a little more reassured.

“And if he’s a dick about it, then Inej will stab him,” Nina says, more matter-of-factly than is accurate and with just enough genuine sentiment behind it to be slightly worrying. 

“No I won’t.”

“Stab him _gently.”_

“Didn’t Wylan say he’s strong and, like, six foot one, and can shoot a gun? He might be able to take me in a fight.”

“No way. You’re wily, and if he gets your knife out of your hand you’ll just keep producing _more_ knives, and he’ll be distracted, like, _whoa, where are all these knives coming from_ !” She puts on a voice that sounds comically dissimilar from Jesper, which is understandable since she’s never actually met him, and she’s gesturing so broadly that she almost backhands Wylan across the face. “And _that’s_ when you’ll strike—”

“ _Oh_ my God, I’m leaving for work, please stop discussing whether Inej could kill my potential boyfriend, thanks _bye._ ” 

**_Rachel, Santana and Kurt in Glee season 5 basically_ ** **_(Nina, Inej, Wylan)_ **

_(07:02)_

**_Inej:_ ** _We have decided that I could stab jesper. Yes it did take us half an hour. Yes I am considering stabbing Nina._

 **_Nina:_ ** _:(_

 **_Inej:_ ** _Nina and I are going out tonight so you’ll have the apartment to yourself, have fun on your date!_

 **_Nina:_ ** _wink wink nudge nudge_

The evening’s warm, and Jesper’s rolled up the sleeves of his button-down (which is the same vivid orange as his tattoo, and Wylan honestly didn’t think orange looked good on _anyone,_ but it brings out the warm tones in Jesper’s skin and he looks great) in the little Thai restaurant Jesper had chosen, and they aren’t talking anywhere near as much as they had on their first (and, spontaneously, second and third) date, comfortably quiet.

Jesper sets his drink down and goes still for a second, pressing his temples.

“There was something I wanted to tell you… a _ha!_ ” He clicks his fingers and points at Wylan, eyes bright. “I mentioned to my Dad— you’ve met him at the Slat before, right?”

“Yes, the guy who Kuwei called a DILF the first time we met,” Wylan says drily, and Jesper laughs, pressing his forehead into the palm of his hand.

“Agh, yes, unfortunately. What a cursed morning.”

“Cursed, but you also met me, so…”

“Yeah, no regrets. Anyway. I told him that I was dating someone, and he made me tell him who it is because he’s just like that, and when I mentioned that it was you he said that he thinks you’re a _‘very nice young man’,_ so I thought you’d like to know that my Dad thinks you’re nice.”

“It _is_ good to know that my, uh—” Wylan fumbles for the word to describe what their relationship is without saying ‘boyfriend’ and ends up going with “— _the guy I’m dating’s_ Dad approves of me. I think parents tend to like me because I’m nice; Inej’s parents send me birthday presents sometimes even when _she_ forgets.”

Jesper chuckles, and then takes Wylan’s hand across the table. “You know that you can call me your boyfriend, right? Like, we’re there.”

“I mean, I kind of figured, but we haven’t really talked about that so I just didn’t want to—”

“Yeah, I get it, that’s cool,” Jesper says quickly, then sits up straight and smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners with it. He clears his throat. “Um. Wylan, I would _really_ like to be your boyfriend.”

“Then you are,” Wylan says, and squeezes Jesper’s hand, and tries not to literally scream aloud like he would if he was home alone in his room. Jesper is looking at him so softly, and Wylan can’t _handle_ it, so he slides off his chair and takes a step forward and kisses him quickly with a hand placed on his cheek. He fully intends to keep it chaste (because despite the fact that there’s almost nobody else in the restaurant and their table is in the corner, they are technically in public) but when he pulls away Jesper chases his lips and kisses him properly, snaking a hand around to the back of his neck, causing Wylan to make a small noise in his throat.

“Your hands are _so_ cold,” he murmurs, so close that their lips brush.

“Comes with being tall.”

“Also, we need to not do this here.” Wylan looks furtively to the side and sees an elderly woman frowning at them from the other side of the room, and sits back on his chair. He bites his lower lip and Jesper’s eyes flicker down to it, clearing his throat and swallowing.

“What?”

“You know what you’re doing.” Wylan feels very proud of himself for managing to get Jesper flustered even a _little_ bit.

“It’s my right as your boyfriend.” Jesper nods and shrugs, conceding, swallows again and starts finishing off his food more quickly. “Where’s the rush?” asks Wylan.

“Well, if we finish dinner then we can be _not_ here and I can keep kissing you and that’s pretty high on my priority list—”

“ _Very_ good point.”

Wylan follows suit and eats as quickly as he can, and Jesper tries to insist on paying the bill but Wylan argues him down to splitting it, and they play Hozier in the car on the way back to his apartment as Jesper drives with one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding Wylan’s, and once the car’s parked outside the apartment building Wylan leans over the car’s center and kisses him thoroughly.

When they pull apart, Wylan gets his cognitive abilities back enough to say “Hey, my roommates are out tonight if you want to come up.”

“Oh, absolutely, can I leave my car here or—”

“Yeah, yeah, it’ll be fine, c’mon!”

There’s way too many stairs, and the door takes a frustrating amount of time to open and it’s stiff on its hinges so Wylan basically has to kick it to get it to open and everything is just taking too _long,_ but then they’re inside _finally._

Jesper just looks at Wylan for a second, closing the door quietly behind them.

“So, yeah, this is our place, it’s not particularly exciting, but we had to find somewhere big enough for three of us so we’re in kind of a shitty area but the kitchen is nice and stuff, so,” Wylan says, and he knows he’s rambling, but Jesper is laughing softly and pulling him closer, and he’s quite happy to be cut off by a kiss.

WYlan’s room is near the front door, so Wylan just walks backwards down the hall, relying on his hand fumbling along the wall to keep himself from bumping into things, and Jesper wrestles the door open just to turn around and stand with his back to it once they’re inside, and he keeps pausing to just _look_ at Wylan with something breathless and fond in his eyes, and Wylan almost can’t stand it.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he manages, and when Jesper doesn’t snort at his weak jab ( _one-liners are more Jesper and Nina’s thing,_ Wylan thinks absently, _they’d get along well_ ) and keep kissing him in favour of just keeping on looking, he continues “C’mon.”

“Sorry, you’re just so…” He pauses to find the word, and Wylan can’t help but hold his breath. “Unbelievable. I’m so lucky.” 

Wylan could cry. Honestly. But that would be embarrassing, so he just presses his forehead against Jesper’s chest for a moment to breath (he smells like sandalwood and something that might be pine) and then surges up to kiss him again, and he just hopes that that will convey the right message.

He starts fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with deft musician’s fingers and pulling it off his shoulders, tracing his finger over yet _another_ tattoo, just as richly coloured as the others.

“Every time we do this you somehow get hotter.”

“You _really_ like the tattoos, huh?”

“What can I say, I’m an artist. Also, ridiculously attracted to you.” 

Jesper fumbles with the hem of Wylan’s t-shirt and pulls it over his head, and Wylan takes two steps backwards and falls backwards onto his bed, pulling a grinning Jesper down with him and kissing him for the thousandth time and Jesper is running his hands over every _inch_ of his skin like he can’t get enough.

It’s cheesy as hell, and he’d never voice it, but Wylan can’t help but think, _what was I even doing before I had this?_

Wylan wakes up slowly, because it’s Saturday and he’s so warm and pressed up against Jesper, who is apparently not asleep but decided not to wake him. He can hear one of the girls, who he vaguely remembers arriving home in the wee hours of the morning, doing something in the kitchen, and he can smell coffee, and the sunlight is golden and he’s never felt the urge to describe anything as _serene_ before, but here he is, I guess.

“Good morning,” Wylan says, croaky and muffled by the way his cheek is squished against Jesper’s shoulder.

“Mornin’,” Jesper says through a yawn, sitting up just a little to kiss Wylan quickly.

“Do you want coffee? I think the girls have made some, if my sense of smell doesn’t deceive me.”

“I mean, yeah, but do they know I’m here?”

“Probably not. I’ll go, stay here.” Wylan extricates his limbs from Jesper, as much as he doesn’t want to, and grabs a shirt from the floor and buttons it up. It’s not his, and thanks to their several-inch height difference, it hangs to his mid-thigh. Jesper raises an eyebrow at him, and Wylan blows a kiss in his direction, and walks out of his room and into the kitchen.

Nina immediately makes a noise of disgust. “Ew, please tell me you’re wearing pants.”

“Yes, boxers, don’t be dramatic.” He supposes she wouldn’t know. This shirt is so long, he wonders how it’s even right for Jesper. “Did you two have a good night?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine— is Jesper here?”

Wylan sighs, and it’s embarrassingly dreamy. “Mhm.”

“And that’s his shirt?”

“Obviously.” 

Nina holds her hand up for a high five, and Wylan gives in with a put-upon roll of his eyes. “Get it!”

“We are not doing this. I’m here for coffee.”

Jesper can’t stay for long that morning— he says he’s meeting his father for lunch, and he has to go home and shower before that and it’s already late morning. He briefly chats with Nina, who tries to start giving him the shovel talk (which Wylan knows Inej has placed dibs on) before being quickly shut down. Their cups of coffee are finished more quickly than Wylan would have liked, but Jesper still occasionally stops listening to whatever someone’s saying because he’s staring, enamoured, at Wylan, so he supposes things could be worse.

Wylan is forced to give him back his shirt before he leaves, but Jesper leaves the top two buttons undone and there are two red marks visible on the dark skin of his neck, which is extremely satisfying. Jesper complains for a second that he’ll have to try and cover them with something or his dad will make fun of him, but he quickly stops complaining when Wylan, in an unprecedented burst of eloquence, kisses the nape of his neck and murmurs _there can be more where that came from._

And then, he’s standing outside the door and kissing Wylan like they’ll be apart for a year, not a week at the most.

“It’ll be weird not seeing you in class,” Wylan complains.

“Mm. We’ll have to make plans for sometime this week.”

“Definitely.” 

Jesper takes a step away.

“This was really nice. I’ll text you later, okay?” 

“Send me selfies if you do eyeliner again, please, I’ll die.” Wylan is barely exaggerating. Between the hickies and the way eyeliner makes Jesper’s grey eyes look huge, he might experience cardiac arrest.

“Of course I will. Catch you later!” 

Wylan kisses him again, quickly, in goodbye, and then watches Jesper walk away with a put-on saunter before he closes the door. 

Shit, life is so much more interesting these days.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> My tumblr is [sunset-snowbaz](https://sunset-snowbaz.tumblr.com) (recently rebranded from galaxy-houseplants). Make sure to check out the lovely artists and betas on their tumblrs!
> 
> Kudos and comments are super appreciated. Xx


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